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Journey's End
Nov. 24th, 2002 08:03 pmWhen I was little, I went to a farm camp in the Poconos. And I loved that place so much. It was a Quaker camp, filled mostly with the children of very well off NYers. And it was up in the hills, and it was just us, and we'd take care for the farm animals and do chores when we first got up, and do projects after breakfast, and go swimming in the pond, or go on multiple day camping trips, up in the woods farther. I got sunburned skinny dipping there when I was 11. I had so much more fun there then I had anywhere, really, until I went to college. I loved being a camper, and I really should have been a counselor, but I was scared.
Why am I remembering all this now?
My brother just called me. He went there too, and later was a counselor, and he's stayed in touch with people better. The son of the owner (my time) who became the owner (his time) is very sick to the point of essentially dead. I remember him. I remember how cool I thought him, and how I envied Jason and Ira for getting to live there, and getting to be there year round. And I knew Carl was getting sick, that he had cancer and it didn't look good, but I was hoping, in the back of my mind that maybe everything was working out okay, and he was getting better.
But he's not. And now my brother's going to send me an address to write to his wife at, and let her know how sorry I am. And I don't know how to say it, how to sum up how marvelous my camp experience was, and how it will always be associated in my mind with them and his parents, and how sad it makes me, knowing he's gone now. It's not all about me. It feels like it sometimes, yes, but it's not. And I just wish I could make it be not all about him either. he was younger than my dad--Jason was Nate's age or so, two or three years younger than me, Ira a couple younger than that, and Andrew I don't even remember being born while I was there, so he's probably early teens.
13 years ago I went there, and I still remember the stupidest details about it--teaching the German counselor dirty jokes, worrying that snapping turtles would eat my toes when I swam in the pond. I've thought about it a lot the past few years, wishing I could still be in contact with the people I went there with, and the counselors and all that. It is awful that this might be my motivating factor to start looking them up now.
Why am I remembering all this now?
My brother just called me. He went there too, and later was a counselor, and he's stayed in touch with people better. The son of the owner (my time) who became the owner (his time) is very sick to the point of essentially dead. I remember him. I remember how cool I thought him, and how I envied Jason and Ira for getting to live there, and getting to be there year round. And I knew Carl was getting sick, that he had cancer and it didn't look good, but I was hoping, in the back of my mind that maybe everything was working out okay, and he was getting better.
But he's not. And now my brother's going to send me an address to write to his wife at, and let her know how sorry I am. And I don't know how to say it, how to sum up how marvelous my camp experience was, and how it will always be associated in my mind with them and his parents, and how sad it makes me, knowing he's gone now. It's not all about me. It feels like it sometimes, yes, but it's not. And I just wish I could make it be not all about him either. he was younger than my dad--Jason was Nate's age or so, two or three years younger than me, Ira a couple younger than that, and Andrew I don't even remember being born while I was there, so he's probably early teens.
13 years ago I went there, and I still remember the stupidest details about it--teaching the German counselor dirty jokes, worrying that snapping turtles would eat my toes when I swam in the pond. I've thought about it a lot the past few years, wishing I could still be in contact with the people I went there with, and the counselors and all that. It is awful that this might be my motivating factor to start looking them up now.
